Dear reader, I awoke one morning this week to find that the air was actually warm. Flame and I got out from under the blankets and quietly slipped into the field beside the cottage, new soft grass underfoot. The sunlight spilled over the treetops and all at once it felt like spring. I know the season doesn’t formally begin until the Spreenin faire in a few weeks, but well… it’s as if the Green Sister came early this year and the work of her hand can be seen everywhere, from the tiny dandelions to the curling green leaves on the willow. Even the animals seem to feel it. The finches sing all day long, and I’ve seen both shy rabbits and eager squirrels peeking their heads out to listen to the tune. In no place does it feel more true than at the Well of the Green Sister. The flowing vines have sprouted white blossoms, and the open courtyard below the white-leaved oak is splashed in patches of brightly colored daffodils, crocuses, tulips, and goodness so, so many more! It’s as if the Green Sister simply poured them out upon the earth like paint over a page.
On our last visit Lorenz, Alexander, and I moved down the open halls, passed the room with the mural and the amber stone, to the doorway that Lorenz and I spotted at the end of winter. It is now clear of ice, and we were able to see what lay beyond. There were indeed a set of stairs, two in fact, with one set going up and the other going down. Since we all wanted to find the way to the bottom and the glowing waters, we chose to go down. We moved through the darkened stairwell and on to a dusty chamber where moss crept over the walls, but there we found our path blocked by an impediment; that is to say an enormous door.
It was really quite magnificent, twice as tall as a common door and all made of stone. Though the chamber it’s in seems to be part way underground, there is an opening in the tall ceiling. This allows the sunlight to pass through, so we could make out the lovely details of the door. Carved on its face is an image of the Green Sister, a great tree, and twisting vines. At her feet the vines begin as an elegant knot, like the one I’ve come to recognize from my mirror, and the key, and the stone giants. Then they coil off in all directions, bending and twirling prettily until each ends in a flower.
Now this is the really odd thing, dear reader: each carved flower has a hole in the center of it. Lorenz instantly had the idea that perhaps they were keyholes. “But goodness,” I worried aloud, “there are over a hundred stone flowers. Where are we to find 100 keys?!” Lorenz chucked as he pulled out the key we’d found a year ago and explained “I surmise that only one of them is the true keyhole and that it might match our key. If we just find the right one, then maybe it will unlock the door.” Oh, I saw what he meant! Alexander was fascinated with this theory. “It’s like something from an adventure story. The treasure is always hidden behind a puzzle or a riddle. And if this door is so well protected, then it must mean there’s a great treasure behind it, like the magical water or something more!”
Lorenz smiled and began trying out the different keyholes. I was hopeful, but thinking that this endeavor might take some time, I sat down on the stone floor and pulled out my journal to sketch the door. Perhaps I could turn it into a watercolor later on, but we could also use it to keep track of which flowers we had already tried the key in. “I didn’t know you could draw,” Alexander said as he watched me sketch. I felt a little sheepish, but told him it was something I had always enjoyed, and I showed him a few of my other sketches. “You’re so creative Sonya. You do art and craft remedies! I wish I was creative like you...” There was a tone of disappointment in his voice, and both Lorenz and I stopped what we were doing in surprise. How could Alexander say such a thing? “But you’re so clever,” I told him, “and you know so much!” Lorenz added that he was an excellent student, one of the best pupils he’d ever had, but for Alexander that wasn’t the same. He couldn’t come up with theories the way Lorenz did or make art and magic like me. He seemed a little sad. After a long moment of silence, I looked at him and explained how I liked to think of creativity not as some sort of a gift, but as a skill. It comes with a lifetime of practice and patience. Goodness, I knew I was still growing and learning all the time… I told Alexander I thought he was very creative, in how he thought about and saw the world, and in my opinion he was off to a good start. He did seem to smile a little more after that.
Lorenz walked over to where we sat as he remarked “…but, like anything worth doing, finding your creativity will take time. Like this door!” Sighing heavily, he admitted it was going to take longer than he’d expected. We asked if he’d noticed anything promising and he groaned. Maybe one of the flowers did hide a lock, but after trying a good number of them, well, they didn’t feel how he thought a keyhole should feel. Nothing caught in any of them; it was like they were hollow, but perhaps the right one would feel different. We were all a little tired after that, and so decided to end there for the day.
Still, the season has just begun, dear reader, and we have lots of time to try the other flowers. I’d like to see the Well of the Green Sister from above too, so we could take the stairs that lead up on our next visit. I do hope Alexander feels better; in truth, creativity is a funny thing. Even with practice, it doesn’t always come when you want it to. Alexander is still growing and discovering his own sense of creativity. Who knows? Perhaps it will surprise him.